


I Know Enought Of Hate

by winter156



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-14
Updated: 2014-04-14
Packaged: 2018-01-18 04:45:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1415581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winter156/pseuds/winter156
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Animosity breeds contempt; but, also, great passion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Know Enought Of Hate

Her hearing was exceptional, and she walked silently even in booted heels. So, the Cerberus officer heard the rumors, the talk; more than most people would think. As soon as they caught sight of her, the topics would switch to something much more appropriate for manning a ship's post. But, had Miranda not heard the gossip about Jack with her own two ears, she would have found out about the convict's sexual prowess anyway. She was always astounded to read what people wrote down.

_The thing she does with her tongue is just, oh god, it's amazing…For all the filthy things that come out of her mouth, she sure can do amazing things with it... She has magic hands…She's an animal…She's a beast…She rocked my world…She blew my mind…She made me see stars…She was unbelievable…She's crazy but in the sack she's incredible._

Miranda was even more astounded by what she was doing at the moment. She must have gone insane to want to scratch an inch with that crazy woman. The officer tapped her finger impatiently on her desk. The long retracted silence on the other end of the line was putting her nerves on edge. She already regretted the decision. It was made in a moment of weakness. But, she never backed down once she had taken a step forward. So, for better or for worse, she would see this through.

Despite her moment of insanity, Miranda knew Jack complimented her well- at least in battle. They were graceful dancers on the battlefield, fierce and efficient. They had learned to move and step and anticipate each moment. One would slam enemies while another would lift and throw them like rag dolls. Miranda was deadly with a pistol putting a bullet between the eyes of anything at medium range or in close quarters. Jack was deadly with her shotgun, impulsive too, but efficient on annihilating anything within fifteen feet of her. When working in tandem, even large groups of opponents were little more than an inconvenience. A well placed singularity and a shredding warp cut through enemy ranks ruthlessly. They were well matched. If only they did not hate each other so much, they would have been fucking from the onset of Jack's tenure with Shepard.

The pointed silence continued, and had Miranda not been so concerned on getting her way she would have been pleased that she left the convict speechless. "I'll pay you," the words left the officer's mouth before she could censor them. She inwardly cringed but kept her outer façade bland and calm.

"How much?" Came the eventual, unusually calm, reply.

"What you're worth," Miranda said slowly, eyes narrowed in an attempt to figure out Jack's angle.

"Give me what you're worth and I'll do it," Jack said evenly, brown eyes hard across the screen.

Miranda felt discomfort tighten her stomach in unpleasant knots. Common sense was urging her to back out of whatever this deal was, but her pride refused to give up the game now that is was started. "Alright," the black curtain of hair moving with her as she nodded decisively.

"Be ready," Jack warned cutting the connection swiftly now that their business was concluded.

Miranda stared at the empty screen, lips pressed in a thin line of displeasure. The officer gave herself a moment to contemplate the stupidity of her actions, and the possible repercussions of those actions. Tempering her desire to do anything dramatic, Miranda allowed herself one long, discontented sigh; she knew there would be hell to pay for the game she had inadvertently started. Pulling herself from her thoughts, the officer walked over to the well concealed safe and pulled out a substantial amount of money.

She dropped the credits on the desk carelessly, as if it did not matter that she was dropping several thousand credits for what was sure to be a mistake. But she felt anticipation already tickling her awareness. The Ice Queen, the cold-hearted bitch, the heartless Cerberus officer was excited about the ill advised rendezvous with Jack. Miranda walked over to the alcove in her room and stood staring out the window feeling the thrum of adrenaline buzz through her veins as she waited.

The officer heard the quiet hiss of the door opening and closing. The scuff of boots against the metal floor had her complete attention but she kept her eyes focused on the blackness of space outside her window. Jack stopped when her shoulder met Miranda's, they stood side by side staring out at the expansive emptiness outside the ship. The position reminded the officer of when they went into battle. _Fitting_ , Miranda thought knowing they were engaged is a cold war that was about to heat up considerably.

"You can still back out, cheerleader," Jack challenged, tilting her head to watch Miranda with open curiosity.

The officer turned to face the convict, blue eyes tracing the jagged lines of the compact body in front of her, "I've never quit; I don't intend to start now."

A slow smile spread the full, red lips. Miranda felt a thrill go through her. "I'll give you what you need," hard eyes studied the Cerberus officer, read her. Miranda was not exactly sure what the convict meant, but she let the statement go with only a narrowing of her eyes. Jack leaned in slowly, closing the distance between them in torturous increments. The convict held the officer delicately as if Miranda was a fragile, precious creature she did not want to harm. The idea was laughable. Jack crushed fragility, saw it as weakness.

Nonetheless, the scrawny woman held the officer tenderly her lips meeting Miranda's in gentle pressure, not demanding entrance to her mouth or being forceful. When the Cerberus officer tried to put some roughness, some hardness, into the kiss, Jack did not stop her but she did not respond to it. The convict kept her touch deliberately light until Miranda, grunting in frustration, acquiesced to the slow pace the tattooed woman was setting.

Finally the officer felt the soft swipe of a tongue requesting access to her mouth. She readily complied, moaning in the back of her throat at the gentle and thorough exploration of Jack's tongue. The kiss deepened, oxygen becoming a secondary concern. Miranda's heart hammered in her chest and a jolt of electricity traveled directly to her center with every swipe of Jack's tongue, the sensation causing moisture to gather at the juncture of her thighs. But the gentleness, the thoroughness, the adoration that Jack was putting behind the kiss made Miranda's heart tremble with something akin to fear. The kiss felt more than good; it felt like hot water being poured over the walls of ice that insulated her heart. The kiss felt dangerous; it sent a lace of alarm down her spine. The kiss almost felt like it _meant_ something.

Miranda ignored the possibility, instead focusing on the delicious tingles everywhere their bodies touched. She felt Jack's arms pull her closer, their bodies now pressed flush against each other. Heat buffeted the officer's body even through their layers of clothes. Snaking her arms around Jack's shoulder, Miranda held her firmly against her body, trembling at the intensity of the kiss. Gasping for air when Jack finally released her lips, the officer tilted her head up giving the convict unlimited access to her neck where Jack was laving copious attention.

Swallowing thickly in an attempt to quell the moan wanting to escape her throat, Miranda felt constricted in the leather covering her body. She was uncomfortably hot, embarrassingly wet, and definitely ready. But, Jack seemed intent on slow and gentle. The officer wanted to scream in frustration.

Jack maneuvered them to the bed, hands and mouth not disconnecting from the officer. The convict sat Miranda down on the soft bed before kneeling and unzipping the officer's boots, her hands caressing the calves being shown inch by inch. Putting the boots off to the side, she stood, her fingertips sliding over the tight leathers covering the officer's body. Miranda shuddered at the cool air that hit her heated body as Jack slowly unzipped her leathers, methodically peeling back the leather from her skin. Kisses were bestowed upon each new inch of skin revealed. The officer was nearly panting by the time Jack had her down to bra and panties. Her blood was buzzing, she was practically vibrating, and Jack had not even really touched her yet.

The convict traced her finger over the black lace covering Miranda's breasts, her thumbs rubbing circles over the hard points of the officer's nipples. Jack's warm hands slid up Miranda's chest, gliding over her shoulders and pushing the straps of the bra down before slipping to the officer's back and unclasping the bra. Brown eyes drank in the sight of Miranda's full breasts topped with tightly puckered, rosy nipples as she tossed the black lace aside.

The officer arched as Jack's mouth descended on one breast and the convict's hand enveloped the other. Jack's tongue circled the nipple in long swipes before laving the tip with much needed attention. Miranda clasped onto the back of the convict's neck holding the woman's head to her while she sucked the nipple into her mouth while Jack's fingers softly tugged at the other nipple. The officer bit her bottom lip as the convict deftly switched between breasts and repeated the delicious torture until she thought she would explode from just that attention.

Chest heaving and blue eyes dilated to obsidian, the officer grunted when Jack moved her mouth off her breasts. She felt the convict's smile against her stomach at the sound. Hands slipped under the edge of her black lace panties, tugging them down and off her. Jack kissed up her leg, hands caressing every inch of skin they could reach. Miranda moaned and braced her hands on the bed to support herself as she felt first swipe of Jack's tongue against her center.

The officer looked down and felt herself get wetter at the sight: Jack kneeling on the floor, hands spreading Miranda's thighs, head pressed at the juncture of the officer's thighs and tongue lapping at her. Head falling back at the continued broad swipes of Jack's tongue, Miranda let herself enjoy the sensations going through her ignoring the prickling sensation that something was amiss.

Jack ate the officer slowly, her tongue caressing each fold and crevice. She pierced Miranda's velvety walls deeply, swirling her tongue inside, making the officer whimper and tighten around her. Knowing Miranda was on the edge of release, the convict delicately took the officer's engorged clit in her mouth and sucked gently. She was wickedly pleased when Miranda curled into her, nails digging into the convict's shoulders through the thin shirt she was wearing, and her juices flooded the kneeling woman's mouth.

Breathing harshly, Miranda crumpled back onto the bed. She felt jack reposition her legs so that she was lying completely on the bed. She looked over and watched Jack efficiently strip her boots, pants and shirt off; the convict wore nothing else. Miranda took a sharp intake of air when Jack's naked body slid across her sweaty and still very sensitive skin. Then Jack was kissing her again, long and deep, and the officer tasted herself on the convict's tongue. Miranda felt Jack's hand sliding down her stomach, caressing her hip, fluttering over the inside of her thighs, and finally sliding through her wetness.

Miranda's hands slid across Jack's scalp, her palms tickling as the soft, short stubbly hair, stopping at the back of the convict's neck. Tugging until she had Jack's attention, Miranda looked up with blue eyes displaying vulnerability that she could not hide though she hated to show it. "What are you doing?" The question came out breathless instead of harsh like she intended. But, it was impossible to be cold with the person she was being intimate with. Because, she finally realized, that was what Jack was giving her: intimacy. This thing was more than physical release.

"I'm giving you what you need," Jack's brown eyes stared at her soul seeming to say _loving you, worshipping you, adoring you_. Miranda swallowed and nodded, words having deserted her. This game was quickly getting out of hand, she wanted to stop and take control but her body refused to comply with her mind's desperate warnings. When two fingers slid into her and expertly found every spot inside her that made her whimper, Miranda's mind went blank, sensation taking over. That was until Jack started talking. Her lips at Miranda's ear whispering words she could not seem to understand and her fingers pumping almost tenderly into her seemed like two separate people.

"Perfect," Jack's voice was soft, mocking, "Engineered to the very base code of your DNA to be the perfect everything." Her fingers pushed against a rough patch of tissue inside Miranda. "Tailor-made to excel in every area of life," the hot breath against the officer's ear made burn. "Perfect but flawed," Jack's voice took on a contemplative tone, "A paradox almost. Flawed, damaged, unusable by the insidious desire of choice. Perfect but wanting a say in how you live your perfect life. You wanted to please Daddy dearest but you couldn't adhere to his say in every aspect of your life. You'd rather be normal than be controlled. The looks, intelligence, biotics are secondary elements when compared to choice, are they not?"

There was a disconnect between the officer's brain and her body. The slow, gently pump of fingers was setting fire to Miranda's blood. Already sensitive, Jack's expert fingers had her teetering at the edge. She heard the words and they burned her with their coldness, their unerring accuracy. They made her blood run cold, but the fingers plunging slowly, gently, constantly into her burned the ice and melted her resistance. She ached and burned for release. She was so close. The litany of words working to keep her just on the precipice of orgasm. Her mind outraged at the audacity of the woman moving above her, and her body desperate for a little more pressure to erupt. Miranda was chocking with everything welling up inside her. Indignation and desire warred, and Jack continued.

"You want to be loved for being yourself, don't you cheerleader?" The question was snide and cutting. "Daddy's little girl wants recognition for the achievement expected by her perfect genes. She wants to be a person in the eyes of the man who made her. In everyone's eyes, if we're honest," Jack chuckled darkly as if she had made a joke, her palm pressing firmly into Miranda's clit. Miranda gasped and closed her eyes. "You want to please but fail before you even start. You want adoration for the individual you are and not the genetic epitome of ideal combinations of alleles. It boils down to choice, doesn't it? Your body can get you any fucking person in the galaxy, but you get the one person you hate as much as she hates you because despite our animosity I see you. You pay to be touched and explored and loved and adored by the one person you can't stand." Miranda's nails dug into the convict's tattooed back breaking through the skin. Jack laughed softly in her ear, pressing her fingers deeper inside Miranda.

"And you would suffer the indignity of my touch, pay me for it, because you know I see you," there was no doubt in Jack's voice, but also no judgment. "And that's what you crave most. You don't need just a quick fuck. What you need most is to be seen."

The officer felt trails of hot moisture leaking out of her stinging eyes. Miranda was crying. She hated to cry. She wanted to slam a biotic punch into Jack's face and thoroughly thrash her. But, she did not because she was nearly at the edge; her hips meeting the convict thrust for thrust. She wanted to push the woman away, banish her from her presence. But, she pulled her closer needing the touch, the protection. She wanted to rage at Jack for her impudence in overstepping her boundaries. But, she pulled her down into a fierce kiss that burned thought from her mind.

Legs locked around Jack's waist, hips rocking frantically, hands clutching desperately at tattooed shoulders, mouth fused to the convict's, Miranda arched, tensed, moaned into the mouth attached to hers and tightened around the fingers furiously pumping in and out of her. A firm press of a thumb against her clit sent her higher, her world going white behind her eyelids. She released Jack's lips as oxygen became a necessity and held on to Jack tighter as her world emulsified and went super nova.

"You have nothing to prove to anyone, Miranda," Jack whispered very softly moving off the Cerberus officer.

Coming down in increments, Miranda heard Jack whisper something that sounded a lot like something the convict would never say, her brain was muddled with too many conflicting thoughts and the explosive high of orgasm. "Where are you going?" She watched Jack slip off the bed. "Don't you want me to return the favor?" Miranda wanted to kill Jack, but she also wanted to touch her, explore her, make her feel the same way she felt: vulnerable, exposed, out of control.

"It wasn't a favor, cheerleader," Jack reminded her, "I aim to please when I am well compensated."

The statement should not have hurt; but, it made Miranda's blood run cold. "I'm sure there's enough in there to cover my use of you," the words came out with cold anger, hurt making them harsh.

"I'm not a cheap whore," Jack said conversationally, "you don't have enough credits in all of Cerberus to buy me. Too many Cerberus personnel have fucked my life for me to be worth any less than too much." She lifted her right hand to her face and took a long sniff before licking lightly at her palm, "But I don't mind taking money to fuck with Cerberus."

"This was a mistake," Miranda's blue eyes flashed fire and her jaw was clenched so tightly the muscles in her face twitched.

Thin shoulders shrugged and brown eyes regarded the woman on the bed with disinterest, "Cerberus has a reputation for making those, I hear."

Jack shucked her pants back on and threw on the skin tight sleeveless shirt she now wore. She walked over to Miranda's desk and picked up the money the officer had left for her. Turning to Miranda (naked on her bed), putting on an air of mocking deference, Jack tilted her head but kept her eyes on the blue of Miranda's, "I hope my services were well worth the price."

Miranda's jaw shook with the force of the pressure she was exerting to keep biotics from flaring. She watched Jack slip the substantial sum of credits into her back pocket, feeling as if she had sold herself out and not bought the time of the woman pocketing the money. And suddenly she felt inexplicably empty and cold. The point of having Jack fuck her was to scratch a visceral itch, not to reflect the emptiness of her own life, her shortcomings. Feeling shame and defeat momentarily grip her, she slumped back onto the bed, throwing a forearm over her eyes and just shutting the world out. Jack could see herself out.

"Good night, cheerleader," the convict bid pleasantly over her shoulder. The door closed soundlessly behind her.

An uncomfortable feeling radiated from the center of Miranda's chest. Her body was sated and spent, but she felt inexplicably hollow, even while anger still burned through her. Her heart thrumming a strange beat, Miranda wished for a moment that Jack had stayed, which made her angrier but also melancholy. Staunching the direction of those thoughts immediately, the officer deliberately (with much more effort than was usually necessary) thought of anything but what had just transpired.

Turning into the pillow beneath her, Miranda let the silent hum of the room lull her to sleep.

"Good night, Jack."


End file.
